A Man's Game
by UnknownCallerGhostface
Summary: In an alternate Universe, only male contestants are put in the Hunger Games. When Gale and Peeta are sent in, they must work together to survive The Hunger Games. If they can. Because in this world, brutality and blood is nothing strange. Rated for violence and swearing. Set in Gale's POV, story better than summary, please review. Rating may change.
1. Chapter 1

_**So, this is my version of the Hunger Games where it's two male tributes sent into the Hunger Games. Peeta and Gale, in this case. Set in Gale's point of view. **_

She hasn't shown up yet. Figures, she never does show up on time. Catnip is always at least two hours late. Well, not really. I just like to show up and check my snares early before a wild pig gets a hold of the trapped prey.

The sun hangs directly overhead as I dread the 42 scraps of paper that hold my name. That if picked will surely mean my imminent death. Katniss has enough trouble feeding her own family, so mine will probably starve.

I'm just glad my dad isn't here to see this. I shake off the feeling and do what I always do on the day of the reaping. I think of things that make me happy. My mother, for one thing. My brothers, Rory and Vick, constantly wrestling with each other until I bring home dinner and they scoff it down like unfed lions. My little sister, Posy. The sweetest little girl you could imagine. Maybe not as sweet as Prim, Katniss' sister, but Posy is younger, so she has that innocent youth of a small child.

Then the inevitable realisation hits me. I have my name in there more times than any other boy. God, Katniss is lucky. Only boys can compete in the Hunger Games. Every year, two boys from each of the twelve districts competes in a televised fight to the death. All because of a rebellion a long time ago. About 75. Why should we have to suffer? We did nothing wrong. They already wiped out the whole of District 13.

But that's not enough.

Nothing is ever enough for the Capitol. I close my eyes and sigh, laying down in the soft, bright grass. There was a loud squeal and a crack and I smile, knowing what's happened.

Katniss has set another one of my snares off.

I try to hold in my laughter, but small giggles still escape when I see an angry Katniss Everdeen trapped under a makeshift net. I have to double over to avoid bursting out in laughter. "Get me out now." she growls angrily. I pull a small, silver blade from my sheath and begin sawing the ropes of the net to free her. "You know, I could've caught a turkey. Instead I caught you. Are you going to apologise?" I say jokingly.

"Ha-ha." she mocks angrily.

"You could show some sense of happiness to see me. I might die soon after all." Katniss's face immediately drops. "Oh, right. The Reaping." she murmurs sadly. She's been my best friend for five years after all. It's good to know she'll miss me. I decide to cheer her up.

"Welcome to the seventy-fourth annual Hunger Games!" I say, mocking the unbelievably funny Capitol accent. She looks up at me, instantly smiling "And may the odds be _ever _in your favour." she says, also mocking the accent. "Gale, your name's in there over forty times. How can you be joking right now? I'd be scared out of my mind!"

I sigh. "Katniss, I'm terrified. But acting scared and crying won't make it any better will it? It'll only scare off game." Katniss exits the net, and out of the corner of my eye, I spot a squirrel scuttling along a mighty oak branch. "Psst." I whisper. She looks at me and sees I'm motioning to a catch. She slowly pulls out her bow and a sleek, metal tipped arrow and setting the weapon. The arrow wisps through the air hitting the squirrel directly in the eye. It drops silently landing in a pile of leaves.

As she walks over to collect the squirrel, she turns to me and gives an exaggerated bow. I applaud, encouraging her. "Oh, thank you! Thank you! Oh!" she laughs. She slips the catch into her game bag and turns back to me. "You could win, you know?" she says.

I scoff at the mere thought. Two out of seventy three victorious tributes were from district twelve. I know I'd be no exception. "That's a nice thought. But if you're a district twelve tribute, they might as well kill you then and there."

"That's not true! What about, erm..." Katniss tried to think of the name of a previous victor from 12. "Haymitch! Haymitch Abernathy!" I laugh out loud. Is she seriously using him as an example?

"Right!" I say. "If I'm lucky, I'll end up like drunk, lonely, stupid Haymitch who we've only ever seen buy white liquor from the Hob." I say sarcastically. It feels like I've already been chosen the way we're talking about it.

"Okay, bad example." she admits. "Still, all those other tributes weren't experienced hunters who could use snares and a bow and arrow!"

"And a throwing knife!" I add with a smile before taking the knife I used to free Katniss and sending it flying through the air to hit a wild rabbit. "He'll make a good winter pelt." says Katniss as I walk over to retrieve my knife.

When I've got it, I lead her to the hill I was resting on before I found her. I grab my bag and open it. "I have a surprise for you." I say. I lift a warm loaf from my bag and hold it high in the air.

"Got it from the bakery earlier." I say. "For a squirrel. The baker must've been feeling generous. Reaping day, you know how it is." I tear the bread in half, handing the bigger half to Katniss. She munches hungrily at the bread. "I just don't understand how the Capital can do this." she says with a swallow. "Forcing us to live in the Seam wasn't enough, now they have to kill us for sport." As she speaks of previous games, the awful images flood through my head.

Children as young as twelve, beaten to death, cut open or even starving to death. All for entertainment. Katniss sees I'm upset and rests a hand on my shoulder. "Hey." she says, turning my head to her. "I'll bet you could wipe them all out in a day."

"Katniss, the thought of killing a person makes me sick. Like I'm just a pawn in the Games. You've seen the previous victors. How scarred and empty they were. I don't want to be like that." I say, staring down at the long blades of grass, dancing in the warm wind. "It's a lot different than hunting an animal, huh?" she says. I nod. "Yeah."

"Hey, you haven't been picked yet. It could be anyone." she points out, trying to cheer me up. I form a weak smile. "It's just the feeling. That it _could _be me. You're pretty lucky."

"No I'm not! How am I supposed to get by with out you?" Wait, what? What does she mean by that? Katniss and I were always friends. I always liked her, but she'd never feel the same way. Would she?

"Anyway, we better head back and trade this." she says, standing up and slinging her brown game bag over her shoulder. "You go ahead, I'm going to stop by the bakery first. Thank Peeta's dad for the bread."

"Okay, come see me before you go to the reaping." she instructs as she turns and heads off back to the hole in the fence, her long, brown braid flying behind her. She's gone quick as a flash.

Just as I will be if my name is pulled out.


	2. Chapter 2

_**If you've been intrigued enough to continue reading, thanks. And please review and tell me what you think.**_

As I walk with my game bag hanging on my shoulder, I see a blonde girl racing towards me. I squint to try and make out who it is as she sprints, her white dress and straight hair flow behind her.

I see her smile and instantly realise that it is Madge. She jumps and wraps her arms around my back. "Gale!" she squeals, holding me for a few seconds before letting go and staring up at me with her large blue eyes. "I'm so glad I found you before the reaping!"  
"What for?" I ask.

"Well, you might get chosen. I just wanted to see you again." she says beaming. I smile, l appreciating the sentiment. Madge and I have always been on good terms, I guess you could call us friends. Even if we don't talk much, we're always friendly to each other. It's always good having someone as nice as her to talk to. "So, that's a nice dress." I say, complementing her unusual dress choice.

"Oh. . . Oh, thank you." she says. "I know it's not what I usually wear, but my dad says this is a big day and I have to look nice. Being the Mayor's daughter and all." she explains. She begins to walk with me. "So, where are you headed?"

"Oh, the bakery. Mr Mellark was basically giving it away. He seemed really upset."

"Well, I should hope so!" she exclaims. "Peeta has his name in there over twenty times."

I look at her shocked. The baker's son? "Why? I thought he wouldn't need the tesserae. He should be rich."

"You'd think so, but hardly anybody in district 12 has the money to buy cakes and a lot more think it's unnecessary. My friend Amber was in the bakery a couple of months ago and she heard Peeta's mother yelling at him. Something about him being useless and having to earn his keep. She forced him to go out and get it. It'd been going on for years. People are saying she abuses him."

I think about how little I know the baker's son. I actually feel pity for him. If he gets picked, he dies. If he doesn't, he stays home with his mother. That's a sad life. "He likes Katniss, you know." says Madge. I instantly clench my fists and grit my teeth to prevent from yelling. My heart sinks and clenches. I love Katniss. I always have. I love her fire, her spirit, her humour. Everything. So all my sympathy is almost gone for Peeta. I know that's selfish and cruel, but my mother always said:

'_Love is a cruel thing Gale. It takes what it wants, it makes you do bad things and it knocks you off your feet. But in the end, it gives you what you need._'

So, will I ever get Katniss? "Oh, Gale, I promised my dad I would get back. I'll see you later! Good luck!" she calls in her melodic voice as she runs off towards her house. The bakery is only a short distance away, so I sprint over and push open the door. The thin ash-blond haired Peeta Mellark stands behind the counter. He has a small cut over his left eyebrow and a bruise on his right arm. The pity I felt for him instantly floods back. He forces a weak smile upon seeing me. Something his mother made him do, no doubt.

"Hi." he greets warmly. "Gale, right?" I nod casually. "What can I do for you?"

"Actually, your dad gave me a loaf of bread for basically nothing this morning. I just wanted to thank him."

"Yeah, he's always pretty generous on reaping day. He's out getting ingredients with my mum right now, but I'll make sure he gets the message, okay?"

"Thanks, Peeta. You know, the reaping is starting soon. When are you going to head over?"  
"Probably five minutes. You?"

"I have to go see Katniss first. . ." his face lights up at the mention of her name. He likes her all right. ". . . Then I'll probably head over."

"Okay, see you then."

"Good luck." I say as I turn away.

"May the odds be ever in your favour!" he yells as I walk out. I laugh a little bit then quickly head over to the Hob. Katniss is still there as I imagined, standing by Greasy Sae's stall. "Hi, Gale." Katniss says, wrapping her arms around me. I immediately hug her back, holding her tight. I don't want to face the fucking reaping. Or the fucking games. I just want to stay here. With Katniss. But I know I can't.

"Gale?" says Greasy Sae, forcing me to break the hugs. "Do you want to trade?" I smile. "Sure, Sae. So how's your granddaughter?" I ask her, while handing over the rabbit and the other game I caught waiting for Katniss. I get a decent amount of money for it. "Oh, Becky? She's fine. The people here like taking care of her. She's over there." says Greasy Sae, motioning right. I turn to see the brown haired girl wander around with a vacant look of total peace in her eyes.

How I pity those with no worries. Even if it is only due to mental instability. I see people start to gather in the town square and realise I should get over there. "Katniss, I trust you. Take this money to my house? Just leave it on the table in the kitchen." Katniss nods and sprints away into the grey afternoon, filled with anxiety and despair. I see the rows and rows of twelve to eighteen year old boys standing, washed out and grey. The younger boys are visibly terrified, but the older children try to control their facial expression. I walk towards the crowd still in my hunting gear.

I scan the crowd for a few seconds trying to find a familiar face. I finally see my friend Thom and push through the silent crowd to stand next to him. "Nice day for death." he says. I look to my side to see the district 12 women crowding around to see their man. I see Madge who bites her fingernails in worry before Katniss slips in beside her. A relatively small woman with a face white as a summer cloud and deeply purple lips takes the stage. Her hair looks like a fluffy pink cloud wearing a purple disk as a hat. She wears a pink suit with a skirt which she flattens down before speaking into a microphone the words that everyone today dreads;

"Welcome to the reaping for the seventy fourth annual Hunger Games."

A wicked smile spreads across her face.

"May the odds be _ever _in your favour."


	3. Chapter 3

_**Well, this is the third chapter. I appreciate you reading this far and would also appreciate any reviews you have.**_

I look around the stage filled with depressed faces. Mayor Undersee (Madge's father) sits in silent disgust at the games. Other officials have taken their seats on the stage and sits silently while Effie Trinkett gives the history of the Hunger Games. About the dark days and the rebellion that destroyed District 13 and how the Hunger Games was created as a constant reminder of how inferior we are to the Capital. As she talks, Haymitch Abernathy is off in his own world, drunk out of any sort of reasonable mind, scruffy and sickly with a scratchy beard. That is what became of one of our only two victors.

Happy Hunger Games.

"How many times is your name in?" I whisper to Thom. "Sixteen." he whispers back. "Good luck." I say to him.

"Like it exists." He's right. If good luck is going back to live in poverty, then it can't be that good.

I sincerely hope that Thom isn't chosen. He lives in the poorest part of town, the Seam, with me and Katniss. Aside from Katniss, he's been my best friend for years. At least Madge and Katniss can't get picked. Neither can Vick or Posy. Rory's name is in there only once so there's next to no chance of him getting chosen.

I don't want Peeta to be chosen either. He may not be my friend, but he's very hard not to like. With all he's been through with his mother, it just doesn't seem like a dignified end. Please, God. . .

Please don't let me get chosen. . .

Effie's slender white hand reaches into the glass bowl containing the hundreds of paper scraps, forty two of which are mine. She grabs one and lifts it out swiftly.

I bite my lip as she unrolls the paper painfully slowly before calling the name into the microphone.

"Peeta Mellark."

Oh, no. Oh, God. Everything seems to freeze as I turn to the baker's son. He stands frozen in horror and disbelief, praying it's not a dream and knowing his death was near. He stiffly walks through the crowd, head hung in fear as he takes the stage. He trembles and shakes as Effie lifts his arm into the air.

I almost want to volunteer for him, so he won't have to go. But I have my own family to worry about.

"And now for the second tribute for district twelve. . ." She sends her hand into the glass bowl again, pulling out the small scrap. And what she says next chills me to the bone.

". . . Thom Maxwell."

I can't breathe. My heart stops. I can't believe it. I watch as my oldest friend sighs in lost hope and walks slowly. I catch sight of his family. His mother, tears streaming down her face as she holds a newborn and is already pregnant again. She has four other children who sob and wail as Thom was their only hope for survival.

I have Katniss. They have no-one. I'd do the same for Katniss, and I know she'll do this for me. I turn to Katniss, who is holding a crying Madge as Prim clings to her waist. Once Katniss sees the look on my face, she knows what I'm about to do. Tears leap to her eyes as she opens her mouth in a silent scream. I muster up all my courage and yell at the top of my lungs with my hand raised

"I volunteer as tribute!" Everyone looks at me in shock. Hardly anyone volunteers for someone outside their family. Hardly anyone volunteers at all. But this is for my friend. Effie looks at me in confusion and leans back to Mayor Undersee "Can- Can he do that?" she asks quietly. The mayor nods, eyes full of venom. Effie leans into the microphone. "I believe we have a volunteer." she says loudly. "Thom Maxwell may leave the stage, and you are?" she asks me. "Gale Hawethorne." I say, accepting I have just threw away my own life.

"Very well, Gale Hawthorne join me on the stage." I walk slowly to the stage. Thom grabs my shoulder "Gale are you sure?" he asks me. "Your family needs you." I say, pushing past him and climbing onto the stage where Effie Trinkett raises both our hands. "I present to you the tributes of district twelve!"

Usually there would be silence, however Thom's mother begins a slow clap in respect. Her children join in. Then Katniss and Madge. Then everyone. They applaud my humble gesture. The handing over of my own life to save others. I turn to Peeta, whose sad blue eyes look into mine. "Let the games begin." he says.

I sit in the justice building waiting for visitors to come. The people who you love have an hour to say goodbye to you before you're wheeled off to the Capitol. My mother, brothers and sisters see me first. My mother wails and hugs me for several minutes while I try to console her. I take Posy's hand and tell her it'll all be okay. She knows I'm lying but she tries to be strong for her big brother. I tell Vick to work hard while I'm gone. Finally I look into Rory's eyes.

"Tell Katniss I want her to teach you to hunt. You're the oldest. It's up to you now. Only apply for tesserae when it's absolutely necessary and take care of mother. Can you do that?" He nods before breaking down in tears. It tears my heart in half and I have to hug him to my chest so he doesn't see tears trying to crawl out of my eyes. I let out a shaky sigh. "Go on." I whimper. "It's up to you now."

As they walk out I wonder how they'll survive without me bringing them food and money. How will the kids cope seeing their big brother killed on live TV? How long will they go on if Rory can't learn to hunt?

Madge runs in next, cheeks damp from tears. She buries her face into my neck and sobs. "I can't believe it." she cries. "You're actually going." I comfort her as best I can.

"It's okay, Madge. It's like this every year. I'm just glad you never have to face this." She leans back, stifling her tears, which makes me want to somehow make it okay. But I can't. She pulls a small shimmering gold badge from her pocket. I recognise the bird on it. "Mockingjay" I say.

"You get to take a token from your district to the battlefield. Will you please wear it?" she whines like a saddened puppy. "Of course." I say before hugging her softly again. "Bye." she says. I know why she left so soon. She would've broken down if she stayed a minute longer.

Katniss showed up finally. She was clearly trying not to show emotion. I guess she thought I had enough on my plate without having to comfort her. She's right. This is just a huge mess, I wish this was a nightmare, but this is all too real. I am going to die. I feel like just crumpling to the floor and let myself starve to death.

"I really don't know what to say. You've been my best friend for five years. I don't know what I'll do without you. I promise I'll take care of your family, Gale. I swear."

"That's all I ask of you Katniss."

We just stare at each other, for moments on end. In the heat of the moment I lean in and kiss her. My rough lips rub against her smooth, slightly chapped pink lips. She sinks into it and my heart races until she finally lets go. "I had to do that once before I died." I say. She breathes heavily. "Gale, I. . ." she was truly dumbstruck. Too stunned to speak. She slowly walks out. Before she leaves, she calls to me "You know what I said about you being able to win the Games this morning? I meant it. You can win. Please try. Oh, and also. . . Peeta saved me from dying of hunger once. Just be nice to him before the games start. I owe him that." that's all she says before she leaves.

I stand up and walk through to the next room where Peeta sits alone. His eyes are red and puffy. The games have got to him. He realises the end is near. I sit next to him and try to comfort him as best I can. For Katniss. And. . . I guess I don't like seeing Peeta sad.


	4. Chapter 4

_**I hope you enjoy the fourth chapter! This is Gale and Peeta's first interaction. Beware of swearing. THEY ARE TEENAGERS GOING TO THEIR DEATHS, THEY ARE GOING TO SWEAR! Anyway, thanks to richards25, Itsalluptoyou and SakuraDrops141 for reviewing. **_

_The branches. They wrap around my ankles and pull me to my doom. The cuts on my face, arms and legs sear and burn as the rain pelts me like tiny daggers of ice. The darkness around me envelopes me, suffocates me and traps me._

_The voices whisper around me, evil and raspy. The people who are whispering slowly tear me apart. I scream and wail, begging for help from anyone, stretching my hands into the empty forest, clawing at the damp dirt, screaming in agony and fear. _

_As they pull me into the ground, I scream one last time._

I wake up in sweats, heart racing and in deep confusion. I come to my senses and realise I'm on the train to the Capitol sitting by a window. Outside it's dark, the deep, dark blue sky filled with stars stretching as far as the eye could see.

"Nightmares?"

I crack my head to the side to see it was Peeta who asked the question sitting across from me. His friendly face instantly comforts me.. I sit up and face him. "You wouldn't believe." I say, short of breath. "I think I would." he says. "I've been having them all night. I just gave up on sleeping. That way I can't have any more." I can see he has bags under his eyes from trying to stay awake.

"Makes sense." I say. "That was really brave what you did today." he says to me, meaning the whole volunteering thing. "Thanks. His family needed him. Katniss will teach my brother to hunt." I pause for a second. "She likes you, you know?"

He smiles at me, amused. "Who, Katniss? Yeah, right."

"Why wouldn't she?" I say. It's true, she has very right to like Peeta. "Because she's always with you!" he replies. I roll my eyes at the common misconception. My family, friends and everyone at school thinks Katniss and I go out. "We're friends, Peeta. Me and Katniss would never work."

No matter how much I want it to.

"Why not?" he asks. "She clearly cares about you."

"I care about a lot of people. Madge, Thom, You, Prim, it doesn't mean I love them. And it's the same with her. We're more like siblings."

"You care about me?" He asks, confused.

"Mostly because you saved Katniss' life." Peeta thought for a moment. "Oh yeah!" he says remembering what he did. "She never actually told me happened. What did you do?"

Peeta laughs. "Nothing ultra-hero." he says. "I was working the oven one night. My dad told me Katniss had been going through our garbage. I knew she must've been starving. I saw her selling things, or trying to, earlier but I thought she'd have made enough to feed her family. Obviously not. I felt really bad for her, so I dropped a loaf of bread into the fire and burned it. My mother yelled at me, hit me over the head a few times then told me to take it to the pigs. When no-one was looking, I threw it to her." he explains.

Peeta was a lot better than Gale expected. What he did for Katniss, hardly even knowing her was an act of kindness hardly anyone would do in District 12, especially under the threat of a beating. "And you call me brave." I say. "Doesn't matter." he mutters. "Bravery can go two ways in the Games." he points out. I remember all the overly brave children who got so arrogant they were killed in the most brutal ways.

I remember someone from the 67th Games who almost won, but was then sliced open and sent tumbling down from a snowy mountain. the victor of that game was someone named John Marcus. He was one of the only 12 year olds to win a game. He would sneak around and take the other tributes out silently and surprisingly sadistically for a 12 year old.

"What do you think will happen to us?" he asks me. I scoff. "Who knows?" I say. "When you think you have the games figured out, they throw something new in. All I know is, I'm as good as dead."

"Hey, come on! You're a hunter, you're strong! You have a chance!"  
"Have you seen the career tributes?" I laugh. "They'd wipe me out in an instant. Besides, you're strong as well _and _you're smart. You have a way better chance than me."

"Being smart doesn't make you a winner!"

"Oh yeah? What about Beetee from District Three?"

"Beetee was a fucking mastermind, I can't compete with that!"

"To be honest, Peeta, I just don't want to think about the games until I'm in there."

He understands and goes quiet immediately. Effie suddenly bursts into the cabin. "You're still awake?!" she shrieks. "No, no, no! This won't do! You have to get some sleep! After all, tomorrow is a big, big, big day!" she crosses her arms and waits for us to go to our bedrooms. Peeta's is across from mine. Before he shuts himself in his room, he whispers to me "No point in saying sweet dreams, is there?"

"No." I say before we both close our doors. I sigh and collapse on the bed in refusal to sleep. The nightmares will only get worse.

I'll just. . .

Stay. . .

_Awake. . ._


	5. Chapter 5

_**Well, here's the fifth chapter where they arrive in the Capitol. I hope you enjoy! Please review and tell me what you think! **_

I wake with a start, covered in sweat. Damn it, I fell asleep. I knew I would just have another nightmare. How could this be happening? How could I be about to die? How?

I bury my face into the pillow. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, FUCK!" I scream, trying to get some of my anger out. Peeta opens my door with genuine concern on his face. "Gale, are you okay?" he asks. I bury my face into my hands with a loud sigh. I wipe some sweat off my face before looking over to him.

"I'm fine, Peeta. Just more nightmares." I say. He walks over to the bed and sits next to me. "That sucks." he says. "Do you think either of us can get out of here?" I ask him, hoping for any of his usual optimism or cheeriness. "Of course." he says. "Either of us can get out of there. It's a slim chance, but it's a chance. Anyway, you better get dressed. Effie's coming soon to give us some information on this 'big, big, big day!'" he says, imitating her words from last night. He exits to let me get dressed. He really is a nice. . .

_NO _

I can't let myself befriend him! For all I know, he's playing me like a violin, ready to cut my strings. Could the baker's cheery son really do that? Of course. This is the games. No rules apply in this heartless country. No matter how nice he seems, no matter how much he helps me, I can _never _trust Peeta Mellark. I'll be nice to him until the games start, for Katniss, then the Games begin and I can never trust him.

I quickly get dressed and head to the dining cart. Waiting for me are Effie, Haymitch and Peeta. "Hi." he says warmly. "Hi." I reply. Effie gives two quick handclaps as I sit at the table, next to Haymitch who stinks of alcohol and sweat. "Dig in!" she says in her shrill voice with a heavy Capitol accent. "We'll arrive about an hour after dinner.

I look at the food and have to stop myself from salivating. I've never seen so much! I instantly take my plate and scoop on piles and piles of food, scoffing it hungrily like an animal. "Well, you're certainly hungry, aren't you?" says Effie. I'm about to glare at her when I realise she meant it only as a friendly comment, so I simply smile and nod. "Well, I'm glad you're enjoying yourselves. Haymitch. Haymitch!"

"What is it?" he slurs drunkenly.

"Are you going to start training Gale and Peter. . ."

"Err, it's Peeta." I correct her.

"Right, sorry. Are you going to start training Gale and _Peeta_ after supper."

"Of course, Effie." he says sarcastically. Effie lets out a frustrated sigh. "I am going to enjoy my meal in my room, Gale, you and Peeta should ask Haymitch for some advice on the games." with that, Effie lifts her plate and heads to her private quarters.

We eat our meals in silence. By the time I've finished eating all the food I can hold down, Haymitch has already started on another bottle of wine. "Haymitch." I say trying to get his attention. My words bounce off his shield of liqueur. I snatch the bottle from his hands. "You're supposed to be mentoring us!" I say loudly, angry that he doesn't even care we might die without him.

He laughs dizzily. "Here's some advice; don't get killed!" he says, taking back his wine forcefully. In a sudden rush of anger I grab the bottle and smash it against the wall, purple droplets staining the wall. Haymitch grabs me by the neck and I kick him forcefully in the stomach, causing him to let go and double over. "You little shit!" he yells. He raises his fist in anger but Peeta grabs it and prevents him from hurting me. "Please!" Peeta says. "We don't want to die. Just help us, please." he says. Haymitch sighs and stands up. "Fine. Come with me." he says. Haymitch begins to walk. I look at Peeta, unsure if we should trust him. He is a killer after all, and I did just upset him while he's drunk.

"Come on." he says. "It'll be fine." I decide to trust him, just this once and follow him, sticking close by to a different cart. It is basically a living room but very fancy. Like a home in the Capitol. We are both sat opposite Haymitch. I realise I've sat right next to Peeta instead of sitting at the other end of the couch. "Cosy." teases Haymitch with a sly smile. I glare at him then move to the other end of the couch, feeling embarrassed for some reason. "Okay." I say. "Tell us what you know."

Haymitch pours himself a glass of blue alcohol I've never seen before. He swirls the liquid around and begins talking. "You know in the first games they let women in. Just to show how we're _all _under the Capitol's thumb. But the women weren't as confrontational. They played by strategy and the games ended up lasting over a month. And you know the Capitol wants action more than anything else. They hate waiting. So then they only let men in. Because in the first games they saw how they're more confrontational, more brutal. They'd take a life in seconds and the games weren't as boring when they were there. They just didn't care who they killed. And that's lesson one: Do _not _expect mercy under any circumstances. They won't give it to you. All they want is to live."

This only encourages me not to trust Peeta. I can't expect mercy. From anyone. After several more swigs of his drink, he talks again. "Secondly: Do you realise what happens at the beginning of every one of the games? A bloodbath at the cornucopia. Everyone tries to get a weapon. Do not go to the cornucopia. But grab a backpack or two. You will need supplies."

"Third: I mentioned before how everyone plays the upfront approach. Because they all want out, they just want to escape. You have to play strategy if you want to live. Be smart, don't play into the career's hands."

This is where my knowledge as a hunter comes in handy. As much as I never wanted to use it on another human, I will have to if I ever want to see my family again. I just want this to be over as quick as possible so Katniss can go back to helping her own family.

What was I thinking? Rory's too young to be in the woods! My family's all alone! My mother constantly works and provides, but there's a reason we live in the seam. We can only get low paying jobs. No one wants a reputation of hiring people from the seam. It lowers their social standing.

And it's even worse for Thom's mother. With all the children she has, she's been labelled as promiscuous. I remember Thom once saying that "No one wants a whore on their payroll." That's why I volunteered. Because I have a chance. And thanks to Haymitch, I might be able to win this.

"Fourth: The career tributes are usually sponsored the most. Why?" Haymitch asks us. "Because they're better than the rest usually." says Peeta. Haymitch rolls his eyes. "Yes, but how do they _know _they're better?"

I think for a second, recounting what I know about the games. Then I realise. "The training scores!" I say. Haymitch smiles. "Exactly. So, do either of you have any skills?"

I shrug my shoulders. "I'm a hunter. I'm okay with a few weapons."

"A hunter?" says Haymitch, surprised. "Okay, that's good. What about Peeta?"

Peeta thinks about what strengths he has. I decide to help him out. "He's pretty strong." I say. "He's also really smart. Seriously, he's an honour student. That could help him with the strategic side of things."

Haymitch nods. "Okay, good. Now that you've got the basic tips, you know to play to your strengths, and remember: The Capitol loves a show. If you cause some controversy and really excite the audience the sponsors will send you things to help keep you alive. The training scores and the interviews with Caesar Flickerman are the best way to do that. Train hard and impress."

With that, Haymitch grabs the bottle of blue liquid and stumbles out of the room. Peeta and I face each other. "Who knew he'd actually come in handy?" I say. "Well, he did win one of the Games." Peeta points out. I never actually saw the games he was in. I wonder what happened.

"What do you think the Capitol is like?" Peeta asks. I shrug. "I don't know, I've only seen it on TV. Do you think they're as bad as everyone says? The people in the Capitol, I mean."

"I'm sure there's a lot of them that aren't, but sadly they're also the ones who don't speak up. The majority probably are. Or maybe even worse." Peeta says.

"If you heard some of the things _I _say about the Capitol, you'd know they can't get worse than how I imagine them." We both laugh as the train comes to a halt. We go through to the next carriage to see Effie trying to fix a sloppy suit Haymitch has put on. He's clearly uncomfortable wearing anything clean.

Effie turns to us and sighs. "Oh, I forgot to tell you to change! Oh, well! Never mind! Let's get you ready for the opening ceremony!"


	6. Chapter 6

_**This is part six where the boys are prepared for the opening ceremonies and then sent in. It's a bit longer, like two chapters in one so bear with me! Anyway, hope you enjoy! Keep reviewing and tell me what you think!**_

I enter the room waiting for some so-called 'stylists' who will change my appearance to suit Capital viewing standards. Hopefully they won't puff up my hair like a cloud like they did to Effie, or colour my skin until I look like a mutant.

Eventually when they show up, I'm stripped and inspected like a crime scene. They clip my nails, wax me and style my hair into spikes with a small, slicked over fringe. They clean me up until I'm more soap than man and whiten my teeth. Then my main stylist enters. A dark skinned, thin man who looks a lot less strange than most Capitol inhabitants apart from a thick layer of golden, sparkling eyeliner across each eyelid.

My skin tingles and stings slightly from the wax as he looks over me carefully. He walks up to me and offers to shake my hand. "Hi, I'm Cinna." he says in a friendly manner. I cautiously shake his hand, still reserving my opinions about people in the Capitol. "Gale, right?" he says. I nod. "Are you Peeta's stylist too?" I ask.

"Well, yes and no." he says. "I choose what you wear for your personal interview, but I choose what both of you wear for the opening ceremony."

"Oh, the ceremony." I say. "Let me guess, a bunch of ill fitting coal miners outfits that make note of how worthless people from District 12 are."

"Maybe previously, but this year I'm thinking something different."

I raise my eyebrow in curiosity. "Different?" I say. He nods. "Put some clothes on then come with me. He waits while I pull on clothes that feel strange against my hairless skin.

While we walk, I speak to him. "You don't seem as. . . eccentric as all the other people in the Capitol. Why's that?"

He shrugs. "I don't buy into all of that. It just looks strange to me."

"Were you even born in the Capitol?"

Cinna laughs. "No, I was actually born in District One. My family was wealthy enough to move to the Capitol. They loved it, but I wasn't too sure."

"So, why'd you get stuck with District twelve? Do something bad last year?"

He turns his head and meets my stare. "I saw how your district was dressed. I didn't think it was fair. I thought you deserved some spotlight for change. You guys have earned it."

This seems strangely nice for my interpretation of Capitol people. I guess I misjudged people here.

I follow him to a room where there are two skin-tight black jumpsuits with red gloves and shoes. "Nothing special, right?" says Cinna. "Well, watch this."

He takes a strange lighter and sets fire to the costume. Is he crazy? Putting us in burning costumes? "Are you serious?" I yell. He isn't phased at all. "Don't worry." he says. He reaches his hand out to touch the fire and I'm sure what is about to follow is screaming and agony, but he is completely fine. "It's an illusion." he explains. "Fake fire, if you will. What I used wasn't a lighter, it just gives the impression of fire. Coal is burned in your district, so with the black suits it gives the impression of light, and hope. Go on, touch it, it's fine."

I slowly reach out my hand and let the flames lick at my fingers. The fire isn't hot at all. If anything, it is strangely cold. I'm amazed that he can do this. "How'd you cook this up?" I ask.

"Capitol technology. It can do basically anything useless and pretty." he says. Peeta enters from the next door and sees the lit up costume. "Well, if being slow roasted is what it takes to gain sponsors, okay then."

Peeta and I walk into the room filled with 12 carriages, 22 other tributes and several mentors. As we walk in wearing the plain, unlit costumes, the other tributes scoff slightly, paying no attention and expecting nothing.

I remember some of the names from re-watching the reapings. The two boys from District 1 are Marvel and Caleb. Marvel looks roughly eighteen, but Caleb is far younger, maybe thirteen or fourteen. He's nervous but tries to shield it, unlike Marvel who is cocky and confident.

One of the tributes from two is called Cato, a muscular eighteen year old who volunteered simply so he could win. The other boy is seventeen and reluctant to do anything, fiddling with his stone and metal costume that resembles the war costume of a Roman warrior.

Although I can't remember the names of the two fourteen year olds from three dressed in silver mesh moulded into wonderful patterns, I instantly recognise the 12 year old from four named Natro who volunteered for a 16 year old mentally challenged boy. His partner is a dark skinned 17 year old with a slender frame and almost no muscle.

Districts five through seven are a blur, but the 15 year old twins from eight I remember being named Rilo and Matthew, who were the only sons of the mayor of that district.

The nine and ten tributes are all of a similar age and of varying skin tones ranging from tanned to very dark, but 11 is where the real differences hit. Both men are tall, but the tribute I know as Thresh is a monstrous, extremely lean man with large muscles while his partner Joshua is very slim and small, but could easily be around fifteen.

This is all I can see of them until I hear a booming voice cuts through the muffled cheering of the Capitol people. Every District rushes to their carriage. Peeta takes hold of my wrist and leads me to our carriage. The other carriages leave slowly and just as eleven leaves, Cinna quickly lights up our suits then turns my head to his. He gets a brush and quickly paints a small paint pattern on my left cheek with metallic red paint. "Knock 'em dead." he says quietly before our carriage pulls us into the large streets lined with rows of people cheering and clapping, amazed by the dazzling flames that engulf both me and Peeta.

I wave to the audience, a fake smile on my face that hides my disgust of how they can cheer children who they will watch be killed and think of it as entertainment, even bet on human lives. It sickens me.

We continued waving and smiling for several minutes until we reach the ends of the street. Once we are back indoors, the flames are put out and we step out of our chariot where Effie is waiting to congratulate us. Cinna is also there who pats me on the back. "Good job. The boy on fire was a massive hit! You were the star of the show!" he says.

"I owe it to you. Do you really think I did okay?" I ask. Cinna smiles at me like a friend would. "You were perfect. "The District One and Two tributes look at us, angry they weren't the centre of attention. Just to anger them, I smile at them. It has the desired effect.

"You were amazing!" says Effie. "We smiled and waved, it was Cinna who did everything." I say. Cinna smiles, appreciating my comment. "Well even so, you made a great impression!" Effie says, hugging us excitedly. Honestly, Effie isn't that bad. She's a bit annoying but all in all she means well and she's been nothing but friendly the whole time.

"Alright, come on! Let's get you to your rooms! If Haymitch isn't so drunk he can still move." says Effie, muttering the last part with annoyance at a non-caring Haymitch.

The other tributes and I are all taken into a golden elevator with a glass window that allows us to look at the bright rooftops illuminating the night. In the seam, candlelight was all that lit the night in small, eerie glows.

"Looks nice, huh?" says Peeta. I initially ignore him. If I talk to him, I'll get attached and it'll be harder to kill him. I already feel sick about the fact I might have to kill him at one point, I can't let him make me feel any worse. Nevertheless, I have to keep my promise to Katniss. So I'll have to take the risk. "Yeah, it is." I say. He smiles at me warmly. I realise I'll never be able to kill someone who saved Katniss' life. Please don't let t only come down to me and him.

_Please._

The children get out at their district floor, leaving Peeta, Haymitch, Effie and me in for the longest. We get out at our floor to see a white living area decorated with metal sculptures and white paint. There is a semicircle green couch in front of a large screen attached to the wall. This is apparently where we'll live for the next few days, with the exception of going to the training centre.

Effie leads me to my room and I'm left to get settled. I quickly take a shower then pull on the first set of clothes I find. There's a knock at the door. I expect Peeta or Effie, but instead there's a red-headed girl at the door. I know her face but I can't seem to place it. "Hello. What are you doing here?"

She doesn't speak. I'm about to ask her why when she opens her mouth to reveal she has no tongue. I go as speechless as her. "Did the Capitol do this to you?" I ask. She closes her mouth and nods. She enters the room and begins to clean.

"Avox." a voice says behind me. I turn to see Haymitch at my door, a bottle of scotch in hand. I look at her as she cleans silently with a hunched posture and a shy demeanour. "What's an avox?"

"It's someone who disobeyed the Capitol and was disfigured and forced to wait on the Capitol People."

I'm taken aback by the fact that the Capitol would actually do this. "Does it happen a lot?"  
"Who knows?" said Haymitch. "The Capitol loves to keep secrets. Hell, they might even kill some of them. Or worse." The thought makes my skin crawl. I decide to leave my room, pushing past Haymitch and heading down the hall and downstairs. Dinner is already being set by more avoxes. I can't believe the Capitol could do this to people. Then I remember the Games. Then it doesn't surprise me so much.

"You saw them too, huh?" I turn around and see Peeta has snuck up behind me. "Yeah." I reply. "Come here, I'll show you something cool I found." he says and begins to walk down the hall, expecting me to follow him.

I hesitate. Would going with him and talking to him only make me feel more sympathy? Is this even a plan or is he genuinely trying to befriend me?

Peeta turns around and sees I'm not following. "Come on." he says. "Don't worry, I don't bite very hard." he says. I laugh and follow him. There's a staircase that leads to the roof of the building. It's cool and refreshing out here. There are large flowerbeds filled with flowers that have dark red, light blue and deep purple petals that dance in the cold air. I sit next to Peeta.

"It's nice out here. How'd you find it?" I say loudly over the wind. "I got bored so I started looking around. I needed a break."

"From what?" I ask.

"Just a break, you know. From all this drama about the games. I just need to be away from it all, just for a while."

"I know how you feel." I say. "Everything's just been thrown at us, we haven't had any time to react or slow down. Even get used to anything."

"I just feel like. . . a tool of the Capitol. Like by doing what it wants then I'm just a puppet. I just want to show them that I'm not just a piece in their games."

I realise Peeta and I think alike on the touchy subject of the games. As much as I don't want to care about Peeta, I do. He saved Katniss, he took beatings, he stopped Haymitch hitting me and tried to be my friend. And I rewarded him with suspicion and distrust. In the space of a couple of days, he became someone I wouldn't give a second thought about to a real friend.

In all my thinking, I managed to slide closer to Peeta until our arms were touching. He doesn't seem to mind at all. "I'm going to head back inside." he says. "Are you coming?"

I shake my head. "I just need a little longer." Peeta understands and leaves me alone. The wind whistles and wraps me in a blanket of comforting cold. I look over the city. Bright lights, a city alive. I almost envy the people that live here. In total comfort and safety. Away from the Seam. The hunger. The money problems. Everything.

I just lie back and allow myself to rest. No games in my thoughts. No fear clouding my mind. No confusion about trusting Peeta. Just alone.

I then remember the Mockingjay pin. I remember I put it in my pocket before the Avox came to my room. I take it out and look at it. A golden Mockingjay in flight holding a shining arrow in the tip of it's beak with a golden circle around it.

I remember what I was told about Mockingjays. About how they were declared useless and left to die. But they lived. Found a way to survive and thrive. In a way, they defeated the Capitol's wishes. Strong and powerful. A symbol of strength.

This suddenly gives me hope. I realise I might be able to do this. It seems a long shot. Me? Overthrowing the Capitol? But if the Capitol wanted something dead and it lived, I can do this.

I will be strong.

I will fight.

I will not give in to the Capitol.

I will become the Mockingjay.


	7. Chapter 7

_**This is where Gale and the other tributes train. Please keep reviewing! I want to know what you think! Also, this is another long chapter!**_

I wake up from a deep sleep, surprised that I had no nightmares. I was actually fine throughout the whole night. The peace is ruined when Effie enters, full of energy and excitement, instructing me to clean up, get dressed and have a big breakfast for training day.

I have a quick shower and put on the pile of clothes left on my bed by the Avox girl. I head downstairs to see the girl putting some food on the table. I smile at her. "Thank you." I say. She forces a weak smile before hurrying back to the kitchen. She's obviously not supposed to talk to us. I don't even want to think about what they'd do to her if she broke a rule. She seems so nervous and timid. I know her from somewhere. But where?

I sit down beside Peeta who has already filled his plate with warm food. "Hey. Did you sleep well?" he asks. "Yeah. You?"

"Well, thankfully the nightmares seem to have stopped. I guess being up on the roof last night must have cleared my head." he says, pouring himself a glass of purple juice. Probably blackcurrant, a fruit Katniss and I hardly ever see in the forest, and when we do we just eat it, hungry for anything we find.

I see Haymitch across the table, surprisingly sober. He screws up his face and rubs his head, suffering a long overdue hangover. Peeta spots this as well. He shoots me a sly grin, knowing exactly what we have to do. He uses his elbow to knock his fork to the ground with a loud clutter. Haymitch cringes.

I swing back on my chair, then drop it back down, smacking hard against the oak floors. Haymitch groans and clutches his hair. "Something wrong, Haymitch?" I snigger. Haymitch glares at Peeta and I while we suppress laughter. Even Effie giggles behind a napkin she uses to wipe her mouth.

After I'm finished having fun with Haymitch's headache, I quickly grab four slices of toast and spread a different jelly onto each slice and shove them hungrily into my mouth. I then fill my plate with sizzling bacon and poached eggs while pouring myself a large glass of orange juice.

I continued eating and filling my plate until it felt like I would burst open. Peeta finishes around the same time as me. I quickly wipe my face with a small napkin and turn to Effie, waiting for instructions. "Well, let's get you to the training centre. You'll develop your fighting skills for three days, then show your skills to the game makers. They're responsible for everything in the games. Make sure you impress, the higher score you have, the more sponsors you get." she says, a smile permanently stretched from ear to ear.

Later, when Peeta and I have the official training uniform on (a tight Capitol T-shirt and black trousers) I follow Effie, closely followed by Peeta. We walk down stars to the training centre. When I enter, I see tributes left and right, training with weapons like swords, knives and a bow and arrow.

There are also stations for snares and camouflage. Since all you need for some decent camouflage is leaves, grass and mud, I decide weapons are of a higher priority.

I decide to try using some weapons I'm not so familiar with. I pick up a long, silver sword with a black handle. It's fairly heavy, but I'll probably get used to it.

I train with one of the coaches, learning some basic blocks and attacks. I look to my left and see Cato, wielding his sword like an expert with grace and power. He sees me and almost laughs at how much of an amateur I am. I ignore him and continue learning with the sword until I'm sure I could use it for defence if I have to.

I practice throwing a spear into a target. I miss the target the first three times, but I slowly manage to control it and eventually can use it fairly well.

The axes are easy to learn after using swords. I know I can use most of these weapons in the Games now. Finally, I spot the bow and arrows station empty. I walk over and pull out a thin, metal arrow. The bows here are different to the one I own. Heavier, and the string is much less flexible. I try to line it up, but because I'm not used to it, the shot is very poorly executed, hitting only the outside ring.

"Damn." I mutter. I'm about to shoot another arrow when I catch sight of Peeta at the snare station struggling with the basic tools. I place the bow down and walk over. I'm almost hit by a large weight thrown by Thresh on the way over, but it just misses me by roughly an inch. I look over at him. His stare is cold and unforgiving. He doesn't apologise. He doesn't care if I die or not. And why should he? Remorse is a weakness. Especially here.

I ignore Thresh and sit next to Peeta. "Here." I say, guiding his hands so he is able to create a basic snare. One I haven't used, but I've seen Katniss use to catch hares many times. "Thanks." he says with a small smile. "How's training going for you?" he asks as he begins following the instructions to make another snare. I pick up one I haven't seen before and get to work on that. "It's going okay. I learned to use a sword and an axe. But the careers are dominating everything." I reply. He turns to see just how able the careers are with weapons. They've been training for this their whole lives.

The younger tributes have trouble with the weapons but are able with snares and can use some weapons to a certain degree. "Kind of sad, isn't it? Children training to kill each other together. Twenty four in, one out. Bad odds for District 12." says Peeta.

"Bad odds for anyone." I say. "Remember it was District five who won last year."

"Oh yeah. Hey, what do you think the arena will be like this year?" he asks. I begin to wonder as well. Sometimes it would be a series of mines and caves, other times jungles and even deserts at times. They would always change it every year.

"Who knows?" I say.

"Seneca Crane, probably." Peeta says. I look at him with confusion on my face. "Who's Seneca Crane?" I ask.

"He's the head Game maker." he explains. "He's the one who decides everything about the games and when it comes in."

I think about the fact that this is the man who controls whether I'm killed in an instant or allowed to make it to the end. I'm a puppet on his strings who has no choice but to do what he wishes in order to survive. He controls my life and my death, with the only escape being death. And all I know about him is his name.

"Gale?" says Peeta. I've obviously been quiet for quite a while. I look down and see the snare in a mess on the table. I push it away and start anew. Once I finish, I spot the twelve year old tributes sitting on the floor in silence. They've been working their hardest all day and were the first to have given up. Perhaps even accepting their deaths. Marvel and Cato spar in hand to hand combat for a while until Cato sends a punch which cracks Marvel's nose. sending blood flying onto the floor. He's picked up and taken out of the room for observation.

I walk around the room, catching sight of the slimmer and smaller tributes in agility training, swinging around the roof like monkeys in trees. Below them, Peeta is using camouflage paints. I see he has managed to make his arm perfectly blend in with a small oak tree. I walk over to him. "That's pretty cool." I say. He grins. "Thanks. I've always had a thing for art. Sometimes when business was slow I'd decorate the cakes in the bakery. Those are the ones you see in the window." he explains.

"See? You're a lot better than you give yourself credit for." I say. I hear a loud noise behind me. Thresh has knocked a fourteen year old boy with red hair into a large metal target, sending it down to the floor. I can't quite see who it is. Thresh is recognisable only because of his towering stature and the beast like fury in his eyes, visible from across the room. When he swings again, two large Capitol guards grab him and pull him off. The victim seems to have dislocated his shoulder. Bad luck just days before the games.

"He's one to watch out for." says Peeta. I agree. It's like all he wants to do is kill people or hurt them. He'd destroy everything in his path with no hesitation. He could easily win the games based on strength alone, so I'll have to play the strategy angle well just to have a chance.

Throughout the three days we have to develop our skills, I try to work on using new weapons and practicing old ones, since these are probably the weapons we'll have in the arena. I'll have to use them at some point.

I lift weights with Peeta in hope to gain some last minute muscle and realise just how strong Peeta actually is. He's able to lift a lot more than me and with seemingly no effort.

I make my way around each station, learning how to make new snares out of basic items and practice them again and again, drilling the instructions into my brain. I do weapons, hand-to-hand combat and agility. Thanks to the food I've managed to gain a few pounds which fill out the areas of my body ravaged by hunger in the Seam.

Most of the younger tributes have gained at least some new abilities in the last few days, but I know that it is very rare for young tributes to win the games. I know most of them will die, and all of them if the careers and Thresh have anything to say about it.


	8. Chapter 8

_**Here's part eight! Game maker showcase time! Please review! I want to hear what you think so please keep reviewing!**_

On the night before the showcase for the Game makers, Peeta and I are quiet, barely speaking and eating slowly. The food is mouth-watering, warm and delicious, but I have no appetite. Since the Game makers show people who to sponsor and therefore control a large part of my survival, I'm very nervous. When I'm done eating, I silently head upstairs and go into my room.

The Avox girl is there making the bed when I suddenly realise who she is. It hits me like a tidal wave. I remember the day like it was yesterday.

Thick Autumn leaves covered the ground of the forest as the almost naked trees clung to their final leaves in the icy, harsh wind. The sky was light blue, with smooth, white clouds floating in the sky.

Katniss and I had been out hunting, the same as usual. We had left snares in a new part of the forest the previous day and had went back to check them. We managed to get four hares but we were far deeper in the forest than we would usually go, so getting back would be a nightmare.

Then we heard a small whirring. Faint and barely audible, but getting louder. Then we heard the yelling of two children, a boy and a girl. "Come on!" I said as I pulled Katniss behind a tree. I held my hand over her mouth as we peered out from behind the tree to see the children.

A slender girl with sleek red hair and a boy with short brown hair, running and screaming. Then we realised where the humming was coming from.

A large hovercraft flew by blocking out the sun and sending out a net which caught the girl and pulled her upwards. The boy looked back, reluctant to leave her behind. This cost him dearly as at that point a large spear came from the hovercraft, going through his stomach and shooting through his back.

The girl screamed something neither of us could make out as both children were pulled inside and taken away. Katniss and I sat there in stunned silence for several minutes, silent in shock. We simply forgot about it and never spoke of it again. But we never go back to that part of the woods. Because although we never say it, we both still remember it.

And now the girl is here, realising I saw her. "Did your friend. . ." I begin. She shakes her head with a sad expression. "I'm so sorry. I should have done something."

Again she shakes her head. If only she could speak to me. I have no idea what to say to her. What could you say in this situation?

Before I get a chance to say anything else, she leaves me. In the silence she lives through every day. I sit down on my bed and begin to think. About Katniss and my family. How is she holding up having to provide for my family as well? Has Rory applied for Tesserae? Has he learned to hunt? Would they still be there when I got back? Had my pity fo Thom's family doomed my own?

Peeta shows up at my door and sees I'm stressed out of my mind. He sits next to me, unsure of what to do, just sure he wants to comfort me. He awkwardly wraps one arm around my shoulder and lets my head fall onto his shoulder. I don't know how long I'm supposed to let this continue, but it's comforting. So I let it go on as long as possible.

The next day, when I'm sitting opposite Peeta in a long hallway full of tributes, I try to push off the nerves. I turn my head and see Thresh, the hulking monster right next to me, focussed and cut off from reality. "Hi. I say. He turns quickly with anger and purpose in his eyes. "Are you nervous?" I ask.

He doesn't reply. He just turns away from me as the first tribute enters the hall.

The day passes, the hours go by and the tributes disappear one by one until it's just me and Peeta. "Thanks for coming to my room last night." I say.

"No problem. You seemed pretty stressed. Worried about your family?" he asks.

I nod. He leans forward. "They'll be okay. Katniss is there for them." he reassures me. I force a very weak smile, appreciating what he's trying to do. The door opens and Peeta is sent away.

I'm next.

I'm so stupid! I should have kept trying with the bow! Will I have anything to show them now? I knew helping Peeta would just wreck my chances but I helped him anyway. It's not his fault. He couldn't have planned that. . . could he?

No. He didn't even try to get my attention. This is entirely my fault. And this is why I'm about to get a zero which will probably cost my life.

The door opens ahead of me after a few more minutes of worry and self-pity. This is it. I have to try. I walk forward with a determined expression covering my anxiety. My steps echo in the mostly empty metal hall. I turn to see the people I now know as the Game Makers sitting in a velvety room overlooking the training room from a large balcony.

The game makers are very clearly drunk from the large glasses of dark wine and have been waiting in boredom for this day to end. Maybe at the beginning of the day they were slightly interested in what the day would hold, but now they dread having to sit through even one more tribute's performance. In fact, not one of them is paying any attention to me.

"Gale Hawthorne." I say loudly, alerting them to my presence. "District Twelve." Several of them turn around, including Seneca Crane who eyes me with curiosity as to what I will do for the final show.

I close my eyes and take a deep breath before taking the gleaming bow and setting a silver arrow. I take aim, familiarise myself with the difference. I let go praying for the best.

I get a perfect hit.

I sigh in relief and turn to see that all of them had turned back to see a cooked pig being brought in. They gather around like swarming bees. It's their job to pay attention to me! I might possibly die, and they can't do that one thing.

In my anger, I grab another arrow as a jug of wine is placed in front of the pigs head. I take aim and let it fly through the air, shattering the jug and hitting the pig directly in the eye.

The initial sounds of alarm and shock are quite amusing. They all turn to face me slowly. I bow slightly. "Thank you for your consideration." I say before placing the bow down and turning to walk away.

"You can't walk away. . . without. . ." mutters a female game maker, but she quickly realises I'm not interested in what they have to say. I suddenly realise the impact of what I just did.

In my anger, I just signed my own death warrant.


	9. Chapter 9

_**Here is part nine! Please review, and special thanks to SakuraDrops141 for reviewing non stop! Also, sorry I haven't uploaded in so long.**_

I sit on the bouncy grey couch with my head in my hands, hoping Effie wouldn't ask me about what happened today. But that's just not Effie.

"So." she says, her voice excited and high as usual. "What did each of you do for the game makers today?"

"I don't even think any of them paid attention." said Peeta. "I just threw heavy things into targets then left. They were too drunk to know what was happening. One or two of them might have saw, but I don't know."

"Oh, I'm sure you did fine!" says Effie. She then turns to me with a golden teacup in her right hand. "And you, Gale?" she asks.

I wonder if I should lie, or deny everything or just tell the truth. Haymitch enters with a drunken grin on his face, and I realise he's about to decide for me.

"I'll tell you what he did!" he slurs. "He shot an arrow into the game maker's lounge. . ."

"You did _what_?!" Effie shrieks before Haymitch can finish. She stands up, marches over and glares down at me. "Just _what _do you think you were doing?!"

"Calm down Effie, no one got hurt!" says Haymitch. "He hit a jug of wine and hit a roast pig in the eye."

"With the same arrow?" she says, sounding almost impressed. "Even still!" she yells, returning her attention to being angry at me. "You do realise this ruins any chance you had?"

Haymitch sits on a brown chair next to the couch. "Personally, I thought you were great."

"Haymitch!" Effie yells, finally turning away from me. "You should not be encouraging this kind of behaviour!"

This sets Haymitch off. "Now, you listen here!" he shouts in her face. "You're telling me that Gale is in the wrong when he shot an arrow at some wine that was going to be drunk by people who's job is to get children to kill each other and will drive them together and even kill them if they refuse? These people are going to try to take his life for a sport and don't even have the decency to watch him train! So, tell me again how Gale is in the wrong?!"

Effie stands wide eyed and speechless. "I. . . I. . ." she stutters. "Well?" yells Haymitch.

"The Hunger Games is needed to show how Panem was. . ." she mutters, before losing track of her words. She's finally begun to realise just how terrible the Hunger Games are.

A part of me wonders if she's ever actually watched the Games. "Stop lying to yourself, Effie." says Haymitch, his voice now softer. "The Games are morally fucked up. You need to realise that."

At that point, the Capitol seal appeared on the large TV screen that faces Peeta and I. Caesar Flickerman appears onscreen, with his hair and lips their usual dark blue and a smart suit on.

"Good evening, people of Panem." he says. Effie and Haymitch drop their argument to see the scores. Caesar continues. "It is time to show you the training scores of this year's tributes. Get your sponsorship forms ready." he says, a bright grin on his face. I prepare for the worst, as does Effie.

Many of the tributes get very average scores, ranging from five to nine. Thresh, Cato and Marvel manage to get a ten. After the younger boy from eleven is awarded his seven, Peeta and I are given our scores.

Peeta stares at the screen in anxiety. He bites his bottom lip, scared he didn't do enough to get a good score. "You'll be fine." I whisper to him.

His score pops up on screen. He got an eight.

Everyone congratulates him. "Nice job. More must've been watching than you thought." I say.

"I guess so." he replies.

Haymitch shushes us as Caesar Flickerman reveals it is time for the final score. Mine. I sit expecting a zero, or maybe even a negative number. Finally the score pops up on screen. "Gale Hawthorne, District twelve scores eleven! Wow!" exclaims Caesar in surprise.

Effie squeals in excitement. Haymitch is genuinely dumbstruck, as am I. "I don't understand! How did I get the highest score?!" I ask.  
"Because you stood out. You did something that they had never seen before." Haymitch explains. "You finally showed them something they did not expect."

At the dinner table later that night, everyone congratulates Peeta and I. Even Cinna dropped in and joined us to say well done. I almost forget the games are creeping up on me. Only two days away.

"Okay, so tomorrow we have the interviews. Have either of you decided what you want to do?" asks Cinna.

"Well, I don't think Gale's open to changing his conduct for the Capitol." says Haymitch, a playful smile on his face. Everyone chuckles briefly. He's right. I'm not going to pander to the Capitol like an obedient dog begging for a treat. Obviously, I want sponsors, but my principles are more important.

"What about you Peeta?" Cinna asks. Peeta looks up from his plate. "I don't know. Smile and hope they like me." he says.

"Don't worry, they will." I say. He smirks warmly in my direction.

"Well, maybe you could talk about District 12?" suggests Effie. She obviously wants me to talk about how I volunteered for my friend to save his family. My mother constantly finds jobs any way she can, always finding ways to bring money into the house. It was enough for a while, but when Posy came along I needed to start hunting.

Thom's family were not so lucky. Even with all of his family trying to find any jobs they could for any amount of money, they just couldn't. I tried to teach Thom to hunt, but he was very clumsy, unable to shoot an arrow, set a snare or throw a knife. No matter what I tried to do, he could not learn. His mother would try to find a husband for support, trying to get pregnant to rope the man into staying. He never did. After the first two times, her pregnancies became accidents. They had to put more and more on the table, and eventually Thom had to quit school and try to work in the mines.

I guess if I told them that it would make a pretty convincing sob story. What story will the careers have? '_Yeah, we've been training to kill children our whole lives, so sponsor us!_'

I smirk at the thought, even though that's how it usually happens. I wonder what story Peeta will tell. Will he reveal the 'secret' that his mother abuses him for sympathy votes? Or is there more to him that I don't know?

"I don't know what there is to tell." Peeta says. I have difficulty figuring out if he is lying or he just doesn't want to reveal much of his personal life to he people who would be watching him try to survive and not do a thing to help him, instead view it like a show.

"Well, you'll have to say something!" says Effie, a grain of annoyance in her voice. "Caesar will be asking them questions Effie, they don't have to give a speech." Haymitch reminds her.

"Oh, well, I suppose you're right." she sighs, rolling her eyes. For the rest of the meal, we sit cracking jokes and eating, refusing to talk about the games. It's like sitting having dinner with friends. I didn't have many friends back home. Sure, I had Katniss, Madge and Thom. And Peeta to a certain degree, but they were pretty much the only people I talked to. It's nice being in a room where you're comfortable. And this is probably the last time I will see comfort.

The next day is spent mostly preparing for the interviews. Effie runs us through a seemingly never ending things to do and not to do during the interviews. Apparently we are not supposed to stay derogatory things about the games, which leaves me at a loss at what to say.

She also makes sure we have a basic grasp of manners. Peeta and I come to the mutual agreement that if we just follow what she says, the whole thing will be over much quicker. Since the whole thing took a long time in itself, I counted myself lucky that I just did what I was told and didn't end up there for three hours.

Haymitch just lets us relax for a while, feeling we needed a break from all of the high class preparation Effie put us through. We sit around, have snacks, talk for a while, and eventually the subject of the games comes up.

"Scary, huh?" says Peeta, dipping a piece of bread into some peppery red sauce. "Just the interviews left, then we go into the games."

"One more day. Then we'll have to. . . kill people." I say, shivering at the thought of killing someone.

Peeta shakes his head. "I'm not going to."

I turn to him, puzzled. "But. . . how will you win, then?"

He shrugs. "I won't."

I stare at him, baffled at the fact he seems to be accepting his death.

"I'm not going to let them turn me into a killer. I'm not a killer. I never will be. I know I'll die, but I'd rather give my own life than take someone else's."

I'm amazed at how noble he is. He's so against taking a life, he'll give his own. Most of the tributes just kill, but he refuses. It makes me feel guilty that I was ready to just go in there and kill them, pushing my morals and my humanity to the back of my mind.

"I don't know of any tribute who has been as kind as you were just there."

"Thanks." Peeta replies. I realise later we've been sitting in silence for three minutes.

"So, " I say changing the subject. "Do you have anything planned for the interviews?"

He smiles slightly. "I have something up my sleeve." he says.

I look at him curiously. "What do you mean?"

"You'll see. . ."


End file.
